The Light Prince
by My Father's Daughter
Summary: {AU of "Living Water," based on the fairy tale "The Light Princess."} A curse befalls Prince Haruka at birth, and is only temporarily alleviated by water. Can an unsuspecting princess, who accidentally stumbles upon the bewitched prince, be the key to breaking the curse...and setting him Free? COMPLETE.
1. Part I

**Author's Note: This story is based on George MacDonald's fairy tale "The Light Princess," and is technically an AU of my first Free! fic, "Living Water." However, I think it will work as a standalone story for anyone who is unfamiliar with either of those. Much credit goes to Mr. MacDonald, whose style and language I have borrowed much of in order to mimic the feel of the original fairy tale. **

* * *

**The Light Prince**

...

_Part I_

...

Once upon a time, in a faraway land that I can no longer recall the name of, there lived the good King Nanase and his lovely queen. For many years they had no children, which they were quite sorrowful about. So it brought great joy to the kingdom when the queen at last gave birth to a son—the little prince Haruka.

When it came time for the infant to be christened, invitations were delivered throughout the land. Somebody was forgotten of course, like they always are in these sorts of stories. In this case, it happened to be the Duke Matsuoka's family, which was awkward because the duke had been the king's own brother. Although he was now passed away, the king ought not to have forgotten about the family which his brother had left behind. But the duke's widow had long stopped making calls on her late husband's relatives; and moreover their son, the little Duke Rin, was so disagreeable a child, always pouting and crying during visits, that it was no wonder the king forgot about him when writing invitations.

This was an unintentional yet unwise mistake on the king's part, for Rin—despite being an ill-tempered and peevish little boy—had a gift for magic, and had the bad habit of bewitching anybody who made him cross. Therefore when he discovered that he had been slighted in an invitation (never mind that he had not visited his uncle the king since he was a little baby), he threw quite the tantrum. His mother, wearied by the antics of her difficult son, at last acquiesced to bring him to Prince Haruka's christening, even without an invitation. Little did she know that young Rin had made up his mind to make all of Haruka's family miserable, in the most dramatic of fashions.

Upon arriving at the palace, the boy duke and his mother were kindly received by the happy king (who forgot that he had forgotten them), and they soon took their place in the procession to the royal chapel. When they were all gathered about the basin of water, little Rin contrived to get next to it and throw something in; after which he maintained a very respectful demeanor until the water was applied to the baby's face. At that moment, he spun around three times and muttered the following words:

"Empty of feeling, by my charms,

Empty of weight, in all thy parts,

Nary an ounce in thy parents' arms—

Thus to crush their very hearts!"

The people standing beside the boy thought he had lost his wits and was repeating some foolish nursery rhyme; but then a shudder went through the crowd. The baby suddenly ceased crying and became silent. Then the queen gave a startled cry; she could no longer feel the baby in her arms.

The devious duke had deprived little Prince Haruka of all his gravity.

The first awkwardness that resulted from this unhappy incident was when the queen, in confusion, began to raise the baby up and down in her arms. As a result, the child flew from her arms and towards the rafters. Fortunately, the resistance of the air brought his ascending career to an end just before he hit the ceiling. There he remained, wriggling about and staring down silently at the assembly below with his big blue eyes.

A terrible commotion rose among the people. The king stood staring up in speechless amazement. At last, turning to the queen, who was just as horror-struck as himself, he exclaimed, "He can't be ours, queen!"

"I am sure he is ours," answered she in a trembling voice. "For you can see that he has my raven hair, and your sapphire eyes. But where he inherits this utter lack of gravity from, I am unable to say."

The king squinted up at the floating infant. "Indeed, he does resemble us," he agreed at last. "In which case, we better get him down.—Tachibana!" called he for his trusted footman. "Bring the stepladder immediately."

The stepladder was brought, and set upon the altar, and Tachibana got up on top of it. But, as tall as the footman was, he could not reach the little prince.

"Use the tongs, Tachibana," said his Majesty; and getting up on the altar, he handed over a pair of tongs.

At last the footman could reach the baby, and the little prince was handed down by the tongs.

Back in the arms of his mother, the baby blinked owlishly at both his parents, without a whimper or a cry. The queen clutched him tightly to herself, for fear that he may float away again.

"Why, he weighs nothing at all!" she cried, distraught. "How could this be?"

Amidst the ensuing commotion, the boy duke grinned to himself. His mischief had been done.

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* * *

.

This turn of events made for some inconvenient moments in the prince's childhood.

One time when he was barely a month old, the prince was lying on the bed in the queen's own chamber, fast asleep. The queen came into the room and, not observing that the baby was on the bed, opened a window. A frolicsome fairy wind, which had been watching for a chance for mischief, rushed in through the window and, catching up the child, rolled and floated him up off the bed, back through the window, and away. The queen went downstairs, quite ignorant of the loss she had just brought upon herself.

It was very fortunate, then, that the footman's little son, Makoto, just so happened to be playing in the gardens where the impish little wind-puff had carried the baby off to. Makoto was distinctly alarmed when he came across the little prince slumbering soundly beneath a rose bush, and he quickly called for his father, who, upon seeing the predicament of the prince, rushed to return the baby to his parents. After this, Makoto and his family were handsomely rewarded for retrieving the prince, Tachibana the footman was elevated to be the prince's personal guard, and the prince himself was watched more carefully from then on.

No doubt it would be endless to relate all the odd incidents resulting from this peculiarity of the young prince. But, despite the occasional inconvenience of having to fetch the prince from the rafters, the palace household became rather fond of him. While it was not easy for the nurses to hold him, at least he never made their arms ache. And how the servants loved to play ball with him! There was positively no danger of ever letting him fall. In fact, the little prince himself was the ball; flying from one servant to another, stoically staring down each one whose hands he landed in.

Admittedly, the baby's serious demeanor was rather unnerving at first. As strange as it was that little Haruka was void of any weight, stranger still was how he was void of any emotion. But although the servants found the baby's lack of crying or laughter off-putting at first, they soon came to find that they loved the ball itself even better than the ballgame. They did have to take some care how they threw him however, for if he received an upward direction, he would never come down again without having to be fetched.

But while the palace help had made themselves quite comfortable with this unusual state of things, the royal monarchs were still rather agitated by their offspring's strange condition.

"Oh, my child, my poor, poor child!" the queen gave a spontaneous sob one evening, as she and the king sat down to supper.

"What about your child?" asked her husband, pretending that he did not know, as men are often apt to do. "He is neither up the chimney nor caught in the rafters again. So why are you distressed, my queen?"

"You know very well why!" said the queen, then promptly burst into tears.

The king sighed, and in attempt to soothe her, said jokingly, "So we have a light prince. But it is a good thing to be light-hearted, my dear, and he is as light in mood as he is in weight. For look at him, he never cries."

"To be light-hearted is a blessing, to be sure," answered the queen, "But to be empty-hearted is a curse…and he is as empty of feeling as he is of weight. For look at him, he never laughs."

And the king had nothing to say. The two morose-ful monarchs sat in heavy silence until, at last, the queen ventured, "What are we to do, dear husband?"

The king brooded over this for a moment. "We will wait until he is older," he said finally. "Maybe then he will be able to suggest something himself. He will at least know how he feels by then, and perhaps explain things better to us."

A thought suddenly struck the queen. "But what if he should marry?" she exclaimed, in sudden consternation at the idea.

"Well, what of it?" answered the king, uncertain as to why his wife seemed so aghast by the notion.

"Just think! If he were to beget children!" cried the queen. "In the course of a hundred years the air might be as full of floating children as there are stars in the sky!"

There was a moment of silence as both monarchs visualized this in their heads. Suddenly, the king gave a chuckle, which he quickly tried to disguise as a cough. The queen tried her best to give him a stern look, but found that the corners of her mouth were upturned also. Finally, unable to hold it in, their Majesties both broke out into a royal bout of laughter.

"Let us trust our child to God, my dear," said the king at last, wiping tears from his eyes. "Perhaps He simply wants mankind to fly someday!"

"And to not sink when walking upon water, just as He did," quipped the queen, and they fell into another fit of light-hearted laughter.

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* * *

.

As the years passed, the little prince grew and grew. Still, he never cried (though he never did have the chance to fall and scrape his knee, as many a child did in order to learn the art of crying); but he never laughed either. Not when the nurses cooed at or tickled him as a baby, and not even when the most famed of jesters were brought into court to entertain him as a boy. The little prince always remained as stoic as a stone.

One time he was told, for the sake of experiment, that they had been violently defeated in battle; he simply blinked his big blue eyes and then returned to the meal he was eating, without the least bit of concern. Another time they told him that the enemy was on their way to besiege his papa's capital, and he simply shrugged; but when he was told that the city would certainly be abandoned to the mercy of the enemy's troops—then he yawned widely, before floating towards his chambers for a nap. He never could be brought to feel any care or sentiment over anything. When his mother wept, he merely observed her with mild curiosity. Saddened even more so by his cold reaction, she once sobbed to him, "Have you no concern for your mother's broken heart, my son?"

"You are broken, mamma?" said the boy, in one of his rare instances of speech. "I see; that is why there is this strange leaking coming from your eyes."

This made the queen sob even harder.

By the time he was seventeen, the prince was known by all to be a serious but peaceable young man; he never smiled, but he never once flew into a temper over anything either (which was ironic, because he often flew over everything else). He was silent most of the time, bordering on the edge of sullen; but never was he spiteful.

This would have been a perfectly acceptable mode of disposition to his parents, if not for the still existing fact that there was an absence of gravity in his bearing.

So one day, after a long avoidance of the painful subject, the king and queen resolved to speak with their son about it; and so they sent for the prince. In he came, floating and gliding from one piece of furniture to another, and managed to at last put himself in an armchair.

"My son," said the king, "You must be aware by now that you are not exactly like other people."

"That is funny of you to say, father," said the prince, although he did not seem to find this the least bit funny. "For I have got a nose and two eyes, just like everybody else."

"Now be serious about this, my dear, for once," said the queen.

"I always am," said the young prince very seriously.

"Would you not like to be able to walk like other people?" said the king.

His son seemed to consider the idea and roll it about in his mind, but gave no reply.

"How do you feel, my child?" he resumed, after a pause of uncomfortable lengthiness.

"Quite well, thank you."

"I mean, what do you feel like?"

"Like nothing at all, that I know of."

"You must feel like something."

"I feel like a nap, good sir," was all he deigned to say on the matter, "So now, if you'll excuse me," and he began to rise.

"Now really!" began the queen, displeased by how difficult he was being; but then she was interrupted by her son's involuntary and rather undignified bounce over her head...for he had risen just a little bit too quickly.

The king grasped his son by the ankle and plucked him out of the air easier than one does a balloon, then replaced him in his former position on the chair. To this the prince just gave his father a sullen and somewhat resentful stare. (No doubt he found no joy in having to be handled like a babe still, due to his peculiar condition).

"Now son," continued the king, "Tell me, is there nothing you wish for?"

The prince gave him a blank look. "What is there to wish for?"

"Haven't you a dream, my dear?" tried his mother gently.

"I can hardly dream if you are keeping me from napping, now can I?" he replied coolly.

The queen threw up her hands in exasperation and defeat. Seeing that no cooperation could be gotten out of the prince, she rang the bell, and sent for the servant boy Makoto to lead His Highness back to his chambers.

"Prince Haruka is wanting a nap," she instructed Makoto, who was now as tall and broad of shoulder as his father. "See to it he does not float off in the process of getting to his chambers."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Makoto obediently, and escorted the prince away.

As soon as the two had exited, she turned to the king.

"Now, dear king," she said, "What IS to be done?"

"There is but one thing left," answered he. "Let us consult the college of metaphysicians."

"Headed by Hazuki and Ryugazaki?" said the queen, lifting a skeptical brow. "Those two have traveled back to the East for a season of study, and left behind their sons in their stead. But the latter are barely adults; only just past boyhood. The first doesn't cease to banter with the second and the second doesn't cease to bicker with the first. What wisdom could they possibly offer?"

"Nagisa and Rei are young, yes," the king conceded, "but they are students of medicine and science, with excellent letters of recommendation from the East. Come, good queen," he added as his wife began to interject, "Don't be so cynical! What is the worst they could do to our child?"

"Dissect him," replied the queen seriously.

"Nonsense," scoffed the king. "They aren't barbarians. They are students of science! Let us see what they may know." And with that, he rang the bell and called for the two young metaphysicians to be brought.

The first, golden-haired and youthful-looking, skipped in straightaway and gave an excited little bow to the two monarchs. The second, dark-haired and bespectacled, strode in behind him, and executed a needlessly extravagant bow.

"Your Majesties!" boomed the second young man, Rei. "We are, of course, aware of the predicament you have called upon us to resolve." He then laughed uproariously, as though the thought of not being aware was perfectly outrageous.

"That is needless of you to say," giggled the other, Nagisa. "Who _isn't_ aware of it?"

Rei shot him a glare.

His Majesty cleared his throat. "And what, good metaphysicians, do you suggest we do to resolve this 'predicament,' as you say?"

"Simple!" declared Rei. "It is a condition of the body in which something is amiss; namely, weight. If His Highness is missing weight, we simply put the weight _into_ him. I suggest opening the chest cavity and inserting a weight therein. In other words, we—"

"Dissect him," said the queen flatly. She sent her husband a sharp glance.

"Good heavens, Your Majesty, no!" returned Rei, looking dramatically aghast. Then he paused thoughtfully. "Well…yes. But then we would put him back together."

Her Majesty opened her mouth to say just what she thought about that, but was interrupted by the blond-haired metaphysician.

"Oh ho, Rei-chan, you've only got it half right," asserted Nagisa to his colleague. "The condition is not merely physical…For he is as devoid of delight and despair as he is of any density. It is not merely a bodily weight that we must insert in him, but also a substance of soul, a significance in spirit!"

"Poppycock," retorted the spectacle-wearing metaphysician. "How on earth could we insert such a thing? It is intangible, immeasurable."

"You always were mediocre at understanding matters of the heart and soul," returned Nagisa with a smirk.

"Is there nothing the two of you can ever agree upon?" demanded the king sternly.

Rei shouldered his colleague aside. "Both our theories require and rely on this: That the prince's heart be opened up, and that something to be put inside of it."

"Figuratively," added Nagisa.

"And literally," corrected Rei.

"Which would presently arrive in the form of grim death," observed the queen.

"If it should, he would yet succumb for the sake of science," reasoned Rei.

The queen had half a mind to behead the two young metaphysicians, but really she was too kind and tender-hearted a queen to do such a thing. Her husband was of a like mind. So instead, they simply dismissed the two and resigned themselves to whatever fate would bring next to their offspring.

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* * *

.

Perhaps the best thing for the prince would have been to fall in love. But, as I have made clear thus far, the gravity-deprived prince was perfectly incapable of falling into anything. As for his own thoughts on the matter, he did not seem to care for the idea very much. But this may very well be likened to a blind man who does not care very much for the idea of colors, or a deaf man who does not care very much for the idea of music. For Prince Haruka, when it came to love or any other kind of emotional attachment, there was only one thing that evoked a similar sort of sentiment within him. Strangely, it was neither father nor mother, but rather the large and lovely lake whose shores the palace was built upon.

The reason for this preference can be explained as follows.

One summer evening, he had been taken to the lake in the royal barge, accompanied by many courtiers in a fleet of little boats. In the middle of the lake he wanted to get into the footman Tachibana's boat, for the footman's son Makoto, who was by now fast friends with the prince, was in it with his father. Now the old king, being in the habit of handling his hardships with humor, decided to playfully assist his son by catching him up and tossing him into the footman's barge (a gesture which was wholly unappreciated by his humorless son). He lost his balance, however, and, falling back into his own boat, lost his grip on the prince. At the same time, his fingers imparted a downward direction on his mishandled son; and, as the king fell into the boat, the prince fell into the water.

What transpired next defied the expectations of everyone present: Prince Haruka disappeared down into the lake. A cry of horror ascended from the boats. They had never seen the prince go down before. Half the men were underwater in a moment; but they all came up again for breath, one after another, when—tinkle, tinkle, bubble, and splash! came the sounds of the prince from far away, swimming like a swan. For the next hour he would not come out for king or queen, footman or son. He was perfectly obstinate.

But at the same time he seemed to have more zeal for life than usual. Never had anyone seen him display such enthusiasm over anything before. Perhaps this was connected to the fact that, the moment he was immersed in the water, he had recovered a sense of bodily weight which had been so wickedly stolen from him. Whether this was owing to the fact that water had been employed as the means of conveying the curse, I do not know. But it is certain that he could swim and dive as naturally as any fish, and even, if he so wished, exhale all the air in his lungs to sink even deeper into the lake. Naturally this was quite a novelty for him, as he had never been able to sink before.

After this event, the passion of his life was to get into the water. Summer and winter it was quite the same; only he could not stay very long in the water when they had to break the ice to let him in. During the summer, he could be sighted there from morning to evening—a streak of white in the blue water—lying as still as the shadow of a cloud, or shooting along like a dolphin; disappearing, and coming up again far off, just where one did not expect him. He would have been in the lake all night, too, if he could have had his way; for the balcony of his window overhung the deep end of the lake. Indeed, when he happened to awaken in the middle of the night he could hardly resist the temptation. But there was the sad difficulty of getting into the water from his vantage point. He had as great a dread of the air as some children have of the water. For the slightest gust of wind would blow him away; and a gust might arise in the stillest moment. And if he gave himself a push towards the water and just failed of reaching it, his situation would be dreadfully awkward; for at best there he would have to remain, suspended in his nighttime apparel, until he was seen and reeled back in from the window.

This was the only time Prince Haruka ever wished to have gravity like other people.

Another reason for him being fond of the water was that in it alone could he enjoy any freedom. Normally he was not permitted to walk the kingdom grounds without a large entourage, for fear of being abducted by the wind. And the king and queen grew more apprehensive over the years, until at last the poor boy was not allowed to leave his chambers without some twenty silken cords fastened to him, which were held by twenty noblemen. But he was free from all such restrictions when he got in the water.

So remarkable were the water's effects upon him, especially in restoring him to ordinary human gravity for the time being, that Nagisa and Rei actually agreed upon a recommendation for once (which was a very remarkable occurrence indeed). They suggested that, if water of external origin and application could be so effective, then water from a deeper source might work a perfect cure; in short, that if the prince could by any means be made to cry, he might recover his lost gravity.

But how was this to be brought about? To make the prince cry was as impossible as to make him weigh. They sent for a professional beggar; commanded him to prepare his most touching oracle of woe; promising great rewards in the event of his success. But it was all in vain. The prince listened to the man's story and hardly batted an eyelash, much less shed a tear. At last, looking bored beyond measure, he ordered the attendants to drive away the beggar without giving him a single copper. And there was not the smallest sign of sympathy or sorrow in the serene blue of his eyes.

.

* * *

.

It was around this time that the daughter of a king, who lived a thousand miles from King Nanase's kingdom, was sent out with an entourage of palace guards to meet with the prince of another neighboring kingdom. The princess' name was Christine, and her parents had high hopes that their daughter may fall in love with the prince whom they had arranged her meeting with, as he was heir to a large kingdom. The princess herself was far more interested in the trip than the destination, however, as she had never before had the opportunity to leave her own land.

One day, while wandering off to explore a section of the great forest she was traveling through, the princess became accidentally separated from her retinue. Now this princess was generally a very calm individual, and not given over to worry or concern; for, by whatever reason, she always seemed to be blessed with good luck and good fortune. And so it did not occur to her to worry over her current circumstances. She simply assumed that she would rejoin her retinue again whenever time deemed it right for them to find her once more; in the meantime, she relished the chance for a bit of freedom and fun.

Half an hour of wandering had passed when her horse suddenly stumbled upon a footpath which led to the side of a lake. Thanking the heavens for this fortuitous find (as she had begun to develop quite a thirst), the princess dismounted to approach the water. Suddenly she paused, and squinted across the lake. There was something unusual about how the setting sun glinted off the lake's center, she thought; for there, the water almost seemed to be white rather than blue. Suddenly, she realized that the whiteness was not water at all, but rather a body, submerged beneath the surface.

Now as I have said before, the princess was generally a very calm individual. In this instance, however, she was overcome by an unfamiliar sense of panic. In an instant, she had torn off her outer bodice and the train of her riding gown, kicked off her slippers, and plunged in. She soon reached the body and, throwing her arms about its torso, kicked and heaved and dragged it back towards the shore. Of course, this body happened to be that of our dear prince, who, before being rudely interrupted by the princess, had been enjoying a sense of sinking which was made possible by the water.

Now I cannot tell how it came about—whether the princess had caught the prince by surprise so that he'd breathed in a lungful of water, or whether the shock of a pair of arms round about his waist prevented him from struggling for the time being—but somehow the princess managed to bring him to shore in a fashion most ignominious to a swimmer, for he coughed and sputtered all along the way each time he tried to speak, and seemed nearly half drowned by the end of it all.

When they finally reached shore, the bank was only a foot or two above the water; so the princess gave the body in her arms a desperate heave upwards and out of the water, hoping to somehow roll it onto the bank. But, the prince's gravitation ceasing the moment he left the water, away he went up into the air with an angry shout—for he had at last expelled all the water from his lungs.

"How DARE you!" he yelled, voice raised to a volume that was quite uncommon for him (a fact which the poor, perplexed princess was unfortunately unaware of). "You insolent, ignorant, impudent wench!"

No one had ever succeeded in putting him into such a temper before. When the princess saw him ascend, her jaw dropped, and she momentarily wondered if she herself had drowned and passed on to some strange spirit realm. But the prince caught hold of the topmost twig of the branch of a lofty tree. This broke off and so he caught at another, and another; all the while drifting farther to the left as a gentle breeze began to steer his weightless form along the side of the bank. The princess, meanwhile, stood in the water, staring, and forgetting to get out. But as the prince began to disappear from her sight, she came to her senses and scrambled ashore, gathering up her wet skirts and running after him. At last, a hundred feet away, she found him climbing down one of the branches of a tree towards the base of its trunk. Reaching the ground, he turned on her, blue eyes ablaze.

"I know how to swim, you fool," were his first words to her on dry land.

The princess gaped at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't—I mean, I thought you—"

"What business had you to pull me down out of the water," the prince went on, quite ignoring her, "And throw me to the bottom of the air?"

"The bottom of the…where?" Suddenly, the memory of a strange rumor swirled to the forefront of her mind and clicked into place. "Prince Haruka, son of King Nanase," she stated in abrupt recognition. "The Light Prince, they call you."

He gave her a cold stare. "Put me back up this instant."

"Put you back _up_?" echoed the princess, baffled. "Back up where?"

He looked at her like she was stupid. "In the _water_, woman."

"Oh." She looked at him confusedly for a moment longer, then turned to glance at the lake behind them. They were now at quite another part of the lake, where the bank was at least twenty-five feet high. She turned to him again. "Ah…how am I to put you in?"

"That is your business," he snapped. "You took me out—put me in again."

"Um, well," said the princess, looking the prince up and down in awkward assessment. "Couldn't you just…jump?"

He gave her a look of utter condescension. It was then that she noticed he was still grasping the lowermost tree branch, keeping himself rooted to the earth despite the current breeze.

"Right, the Light Prince, sorry," she amended quickly, feeling foolish. "Very well. Hold on to me." And she raised up her arms, offering her waist to him.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "What on earth for?"

"You need some gravity to get back in, do you not? I'll just let you borrow some of mine." She waited patiently for him to follow her suggestion, but he just hesitated. She sighed. "Go on, I won't mind," she told him, then added, "I think the circumstances allow for a break in decorum."

The prince gave her another suspicious glance before stepping forward and gingerly placing his hands on her waist. She, in turn, wrapped a tentative arm around his shoulders.

"Now, hold on tight and don't go flying off," she instructed him sternly, then promptly leapt from the rock with him in her arms.

There was barely enough time for the prince's eyes to widen in surprise before the water closed over them. When they came to the surface, he gasped for breath, but it was more from the rush of falling than for the need for air.

The princess saw his shock and laughed in spite of herself. "How do you like falling in?" she asked, lifting wet hair away from her face.

He turned blue eyes on her. The cerulean of his irises seemed to quiver.

"Is that what you call _falling in_?" he asked.

"Yes."

"It seemed to me more like going up," he countered.

The princess laughed again. "I certainly felt as though I were flying as well," she quipped. "What a rush, and such fun!"

"Yes," said the prince thoughtfully, rolling that last word around in his head. "Fun. Quite."

Naturally, neither of them had experienced the fun of leaping off of a cliff before, as they had both been raised to be a proper prince and princess, respectively.

"I have never fallen before," revealed the prince, then felt strange for making such an honest confession. But seeing as he had already begun, he went on to admit, "I wish I could do it more often."

And then the poor prince looked almost sad.

Now the princess was as kind of heart as a princess should be (for she was not of the spoiled variety of princesses), and whenever she saw someone sad, it made her heart ache for them severely. In this respect she was quite different from the prince. And so, when she saw how his countenance had been brought low, she quickly offered, "I shall be most happy to fall in with you any time you like."

The prince looked at her suspiciously. "Why would you do that?"

"Well, I am most sorry that I dragged you out earlier against your will," said the princess. "And I would very much like to make amends. Besides, it is such good fun falling in! I am not sure I would ever have a better excuse to keep doing so."

The prince looked doubtful, but said, "Thank you. At all events, as we have fallen in, would you like a swim?"

"Yes, very much!" responded the princess.

And away they went, swimming, and diving, and floating, until at last they heard cries along the shore, and saw lights glancing in all directions. It was now quite late. They swam to the bank, and the princess helped the prince to get onto the shore and gain stable footing there.

Finally, the prince turned solemnly to the princess. "I must go home," he told her.

"Alright," returned the princess.

They stared at each other for a beat.

"Shall we meet here again tomorrow, then?" the princess ventured to ask.

"I will be here, to be sure," said the prince, then added, somewhat vaguely, "If you are here as well, then a meeting is sure to happen on its own."

"Right," said the princess slowly. "Well then…Prince Haruka. I look forward to falling in with you again." She curtsied, somewhat awkwardly from the weight of her soaked gown. He, in turn, gave a stiff little bow. And then they parted ways for the night.

Little did the princess know that she was soon to be falling in with the prince in more ways than one.


	2. Part II

_..._

_Part II_

_..._

The princess' staff were stunned by the soaked state of their sovereign when they stumbled upon her at last.

"Your Highness!" they cried in unison. As one, they swarmed to check her for injuries.

"I'm fine," she stated, waving them away as she dismounted. "Please, don't fuss over me."

The princess' lady-in-waiting came rushing forward, patting her down and feeling around her head.

"Rose," said the princess sternly. "I said I'm fine. What are you doing?"

Rose's fingers closed over a tiara pinned among the wet tangles. "Oh, thank God," she breathed, relieved. "It's still there."

"I am altogether affronted and amused at your choice in concern," said the princess.

"Oh, _you_ are always fine, Highness," said Rose. "Whether it is because you are blessed with good luck or that God simply favors you, I don't know; but I do wish He would show the same favor towards your wardrobe, seeing as how I am in charge of it."

"Well," laughed the princess, "You pin this thing so tightly to my head that it manages to stay put, even when I dive into a lake."

The lady-in-waiting stared her down. "You did what now?"

"Never mind that," said the princess hurriedly, avoiding the other maiden's disapproving gaze. "There are more important matters to attend to. Ahem," She raised her voice so that the rest of her retinue may hear, "This is a royal command. We are to remain in the area for a few days. Sir Michael," she turned to the captain of the guard, "Please find the nearest inn for us to stay in, for the time being."

The captain bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."

.

* * *

.

An hour later, within a room at the inn, the princess related to her lady-in-waiting the story of how she had met the light prince, and how she desired to help him find his lost gravity. Rose found the whole matter rather suspicious.

"Your Highness—Christine," she began (having grown up together, they dropped all formalities when out of the public eye), "This is not like one of those beggars or cripples that you always sneak into the palace and nurse back to health. This prince has a curse that knows no cure. And besides…what about the other prince whom your father has sent you to meet?"

The princess was nonchalant. "What of him?"

"What would the king think of you delaying your meeting with him?"

The princess shrugged.

Rose inquired next, "Who is the prince whom you are meant to meet, anyway?"

The princess shrugged again.

"What! You don't know?"

"What of it? You don't know either," retorted the princess.

"I am merely your lady-in-waiting," protested Rose. "I simply follow orders."

"Yes, and I am merely the daughter of a king. I simply follow _his_ orders."

Rose threw up her hands. "How do we even know where we are going?!"

"That is the captain-of-the-guard's job."

"But surely the king would have told you, if you asked," insisted Rose.

"I suppose. I trust my father's judgment though, so I felt no need to ask unnecessary questions."

Rose scrutinized the princess. "You simply didn't care, did you?" she concluded. "Never once have you cared about princes or political alliances, not even when they came riding into the kingdom offering lands and gold for your hand in marriage."

"I leave it up to my father whom I shall marry."

"Because you don't care," Rose persisted.

"Perhaps," the princess admitted begrudgingly.

Her lady-in-waiting smiled. "So why is it, then," she began, a gleam in her eye, "That you are suddenly so interested in a prince now?"

The princess paused. "That is different," she asserted at last.

"Is it?"

"Do you know any other prince who can be tossed about by the wind?" she asked dryly.

"I do not see how that makes him more appealing than the others."

"I didn't say it did."

"And yet," said Rose, "No other prince has moved in you the desire to come to his aid."

"Because no other prince has ever needed any aid," the princess pointed out. "All they ever wanted was to impress and charm and win me over. But Prince Haruka does not. He does not care to."

Rose lifted an eyebrow. "And that is a good thing, how?"

"It shows true sincerity."

"It shows apathy!" cried Rose. She sighed and shook her head. "How you always see good in others when there is none to see, I shall never know. But," she added with resignation, "I suppose it is befitting a princess."

Rose knew, from experience, that there was no talking Her Highness out of helping another human being once she had made up her mind to do so.

.

* * *

.

The next day, after swearing Rose to secrecy, the princess quietly stole away from the inn and returned to the lake, where she found the prince already floating about in the center of the water. She thought about waving and calling out to him, except that his courtiers were not too far off on the other shore, and would surely notice her. Not keen on attracting their attention, she decided, instead, to take a slightly more subtle route. So she began to softly sing a tune that her old nurse used to sing to her, and this is what she sang:

"Man with hair as black as night,

Find, within your heart, a light;

Open up your spirit's eyes,

Lest your soul and spirit dies.

Eyes to see and ears to hear

Are what you'll need to shed a tear

Of living waters that renew

Your heart, and give you life anew."

Before she had finished her song, the prince had swum up to the bank where she was sitting atop of. His ears had led him truly.

"Hello, prince!" the princess called down cheerfully. "Would you like a fall?"

"There you are," he called back up in a monotone voice. "I was wondering how long you would take. Yes, if you please, princess."

"How did you know I was a princess?" she asked, surprised.

"You have the disposition befitting a princess," the prince answered vaguely.

"What do you mean by that?"

Prince Haruka looked askance and mumbled something.

She strained to hear him. "What?"

"I said," the prince repeated, slightly more loudly, "You're very kind." He paused, then added, "That, and the tiara on your head yesterday gave it away."

The princess' cheeks heated up. "Ah. Yes, that. I'd quite forgotten about it."

The prince glanced at her then. "You are not wearing it today."

"Right, well, yesterday I had not been expecting to jump off a cliff and into a lake. I am better prepared today."

"I see."

There was a beat of silence.

"Well then," said the princess at last, "Come on up, Your Highness."

"I require assistance, lest we have a similar mishap as yesterday," said the prince, and then, as an afterthought, added tonelessly, "If you please, princess."

She seemed to consider him for a moment. At last, she leaned downwards and reached an arm out to him. "Call me Christine," she told him. "That is my name, by the way. Seeing as how I already know yours."

He met her eyes with a blank stare but said nothing; simply reached up and took her hand to pull himself onto the rock.

Within moments they had ventured to a higher vantage point and leaped from it into the water together. The splash they made was tremendous, and their swim stupendous. Several times they swam back to the bank and climbed atop the rock, to jump into the water once more.

The third time around, Princess Christine made the prince pause before they jumped.

"Pay attention to how it feels to fall," she instructed him.

He gave her a strange look. "Why?"

"You would like to learn how, yes?" said she. "Perhaps, if you understood it better, you would be able to."

Prince Haruka looked doubtful but did not protest. This time, as they fell into the water, he closed his eyes in concentration.

When they resurfaced, he turned to her and said flatly, "It felt like going up."

"…I see," said the princess.

In truth, the only thing she could see was that this was going to be difficult.

"How is it," he continued, almost accusatorily, "That what you call 'falling down' actually feels like 'going up'?"

The princess thought about this for a moment. "Well," she began, "I suppose it must be the sensation of flying that you feel in your spirit."

The prince simply stared at her unblinkingly, not understanding.

"It is like..." the princess floundered for an example, "Like love. They say that you 'fall' in love, when in fact it feels like you are floating, flying; because of the joy that you feel in your heart."

The prince only looked more confused.

The princess sighed. Clearly, Prince Haruka could understand falling neither literally nor figuratively.

"Never mind," she told him. "We shall try it again later. For now, let us have a swim."

The prince did not have to be told twice; and in a flash, he had dove down deep into the water. The princess smiled a small smile and, shaking her head, swam after him.

.

* * *

.

And so, day after day they met, and swam about in the clear lake. The princess was rather surprised that Sir Michael did not put up a fight over continuing their journey; but she _was_ a princess after all, and had employed her most royal tone of voice when commanding him that they would be staying just a bit longer. For whatever reason, the captain of the guard simply obeyed without a word of protest, for which the princess was grateful. Never before had she had such fun and, frankly, she wanted it to last forever. Nor had she ever felt so free; for with any other prince whom she had held court with, it was always a tedious affair of social etiquette and forced charm. Not so with Prince Haruka, who spoke little and, when he did speak, did so concisely and without pretense. Princess Christine found this refreshing, like a cup of cool water on a hot summer's day. And how she enjoyed falling in with him, too! Why, it positively felt like flying, each and every time. So much did she enjoy her time with the prince, that she often fancied she was swimming in the sky instead of in the lake.

"I feel like this is a taste of heaven on earth!" she laughed to him one time.

At this, he had only looked dreadfully confused.

Sometimes, she thought that perhaps he knew what she was talking about, but simply didn't realize it. When the moon was high in the sky, one of his great delights, which she joined him in, was to dive deep into the water, and then, turning around, look up at the great orb of light above, shining and radiant through the clear lens of blue. Together, they would shoot up through the water; and lo! there was the moon, far off, clear and bright, and very lovely, set in a sea of stars.

"It's at the bottom of a deeper and bluer lake than ours," said the princess one time.

The prince considered her for a moment. "And is that what you are always calling 'heaven'?" he inquired.

She looked at him and smiled. "Oh, I suspect that's much farther off than the bottom of the sky; and yet, at the same time, closer than the top of the ground."

The prince glared at her. "You confuse me, princess," he told her bluntly.

"I am happy to return the compliment, dear prince," quipped she.

And indeed, she did find the prince confusing; for in the water he was very much like other people, at least in terms of gravity. And besides this, he was not so empty of emotion as he was on shore; for he would express delight in their swims, despair over his condition, and even deference towards her. Perhaps what confused the princess most was the increased lightheartedness she felt in his company. This would not have been so odd an occurrence (as Princess Christine was generally joyful already), except that the feeling was accompanied by one of lightheadedness, too. She wondered if she was beginning to be infected by the prince's peculiar condition, and that it started on your insides first.

Finally, after a week and a half (which was triple the amount of time she had intended to stay), and many knowing looks thrown at her by Rose, the princess caught on to something. It didn't just feel like flying whenever she fell in with the prince…it felt like flying every single moment that she was with him.

"Haru," she said one day (at some point she had begun calling him by nickname and, although he looked rather affronted at first, he had made no protest, so she saw no reason to discontinue), "Do you know what it is to love?"

He gave her a look wavering between bafflement and disgust. "I am sure I do not know," he said, after an uncomfortable pause.

"But you must," she insisted. "For surely that is what you feel when you are in the water."

He made no reply; simply stared stubbornly at her.

Perhaps it was the lightheadedness that he made her feel, but for whatever reason, the princess felt emboldened to say next, "And that is what I feel when I am in the water…with you."

Mayhaps the prince recognized this as a confession of love, and mayhaps he didn't; but if he did, then it is a sure thing that he pretended he didn't. For all he did in response was stare at her some more in blank uncomprehension. But then, after a moment, he looked puzzled, as if he were trying to understand something.

"If you know," he said, "Then tell me, what is it to love?"

"Well, it—it is when…" the princess stammered, then stopped to think for a moment. "It is when you care for something, or some_one_ very much," she said at last. "So much so that you feel like you would do anything for them…even exchange your life for theirs."

The prince seemed perturbed by the idea. "Who on earth would do such a thing?"

The princess wanted to say, _I would_, but was starting to get the sinking suspicion that it would be an unwelcome statement. So instead, she said, "I've heard that God once came to earth as a man, to die for us, because He loved us."

Prince Haruka looked utterly unmoved. "Why would God do something so foolish?" he asked.

The poor princess just looked at him at him sadly. "I suppose it's because, for whatever reason, He found us worth dying for."

The prince made an expression of extreme distaste. "That sounds like madness."

"Perhaps it is," she replied resignedly. "Never mind that, then; shall we carry on swimming?"

In reply, the prince simply swam off and away from her without a word or second thought. She sighed a small sigh and, as always, followed after him.

.

* * *

.

Now, I should think I have made it quite clear by now how fond the prince was of his precious lake. So imagine his consternation when, diving with the princess the next day, a sudden suspicion seized him that the lake was not as deep as it used to be. He shot to the surface and, without a word, swam full speed towards the deeper end of the lake. The princess followed, begging to know if he was ill, or if something was the matter. But he neither turned his head nor took the smallest notice of her. Arriving at the shore, he made an intense scrutiny of the water level along the rocks. But he was unable to come to a conclusion, for dusk was approaching, and so he could not see well. He turned therefore and swam home, without saying a word to explain his conduct to the princess, of whose presence he seemed no longer aware of. She thus withdrew to the inn that night in great perplexity and distress; thinking that perhaps her talk of love the day before had caused some alarm in him (as talks of love are apt to do in most young men).

The next day the prince did not rejoin the princess at her side of the lake; but instead swam about on his own to make some more observations, which, alas, strengthened his suspicions. He saw that the banks were more dry than usual; and that the grass on the shore and the plants on the rocks were withering away. He made marks along the borders and examined them, day after day (during which he seemed to have all but forgotten about the poor princess); until at last the odious notion became an absolute fact—that the surface of the lake was slowly sinking.

The prince nearly went out of what little mind he had. It was unthinkable to him that the lake, which he cherished more than any living thing, should lay dying before his very eyes. Yet there it sank, slowly vanishing. The tops of rocks, which had never been seen until now, began to appear above the water. Before long they, too, were dry in the sun. The prince could bear to swim no longer, and shut himself away in his chambers, refusing food or drink. His very life seemed bound to the lake; even as it sank, so too did he pine away. People said he would not live an hour after the lake was gone.

But he never cried.

His parents, deeply concerned, made a proclamation that whosoever could bring a stop to the lake's decrease would be rewarded handsomely. Nagisa and Rei applied themselves to their theorizing and hypothesizing, but all in vain. Not even they could reverse the disappearing of the water.

Of course, the Duke Rin was at the root of this mischief. Now a young man, the duke still held onto his childhood resentments. When he heard that his cousin found more happiness in the water than anyone else out of it, he fell into a dark mood and cursed himself for his lack of foresight. For Rin himself had been fond of water since childhood; hence his affinity for using it in spells. Had he known that his use of water in conveying the curse would enhance the prince's own abilities in water; why, then, he would have re-thought his whole plan! But it was too late now, and the duke, still as prone to irrational tantrums as ever, promptly decided that, if he could not enjoy the water for himself alone, then no one could.

"The king and the people shall die of thirst," said he, "And that twit of a princeling shall dry up into a husk before I lose my revenge."

Then he enacted a terrible curse, the process of which I shall not relay here, for it is not something little children should know. But this curse began the process of draining dry the lake; and not only that, but every stream in the country ceased to ebb and flow, and began to fade away like the last breaths of a dying man. Within days there was no sound of falling water to be heard along the borders of the lake. All the springs and rivers went dry. What were once cascading waterfalls turned into barren mountainsides. And not only had the fountains of Mother Earth ceased to flow, but also those of her inhabitants; for all the babies throughout the kingdom were crying dreadfully—only without tears.

.

* * *

.

Never since the night when the prince left her so abruptly had the princess been able to meet with him again. She had seen him once or twice more from afar; but each time he had swum about frantically on the far side of the lake, observing the water levels, and all but ignoring her from where she waited on the opposite bank. She had sat and sang, and waited for him in vain. Now, he had ceased appearing altogether. Like the fish in the lake, he was wasting away with the water; sinking as it sank, withering as it dried.

When at last the princess noticed the change that was taking place in the level of the water, she was greatly alarmed and perplexed. She was not sure whether the lake was dying because the prince had forsaken it; or whether the prince would not come because the lake had begun to sink. But she resolved to find out.

So she disguised herself in simple attire and, going to the palace, acquired for herself a position there as a maid. Specifically, she requested the task of cleaning a section of the palace which just so happened to include the prince's chambers. This was rather cunning of her too, as the prince, being so light on his feet, couldn't possibly leave much dirt on the floors for her to clean.

She did not alert Rose or her courtiers to her course of action, as she was sure that they would try and prevent her from taking it. Soon, she came to learn that the prince's disappearance was directly linked to the disappearance of the water. So, on the days that she was not charged with cleaning, she roamed about the lake, searching every depth that remained in order to find if there was any source to its leakage. But, never coming across anything, all she could do was put extra polish on the floor of the prince's outer chambers, in which he never set foot anymore.

For the prince kept to his room, with the curtains drawn to shut out the dying lake. It haunted his mind day and night so that he felt as if the lake were his soul, drying up within him, first to mud, then to madness and death. He thus brooded over the disappearing water until he was nearly at the end of his sanity. As for the princess, he had very much forgotten about her. However much he may have enjoyed her company in the water, he did not care for her without it.

The princess, meanwhile, befriended the prince's personal guard, Makoto, and learned all that could be told about the prince. She sought out the two young metaphysicians also, for their wisdom and counsel on the subject. At length she began to develop a sneaking suspicion as to the source of the sinking water.

"Makoto," she said to the young guard one day, as she was polishing the floors, "Tell it to me again—there is a rumor that the reclusive Duke Rin is the one who cursed the prince…is there not?"

"I have told you many times to call me Mako, Christine," replied the guard (and in the future, whenever he would think back on how he had unknowingly addressed the princess with such informality, he would feel awfully abashed). "And yes, there is such a rumor. I remember as a young boy, at the prince's christening, that the duke's behavior was exceptionally questionable."

"So then," continued the princess, "Does it not stand to reason that he may have also cursed the lake?"

"Oh-ho!" cried a voice from nearby that made both of them jump. "The maid has the mind for a metaphysician!"

Around the corner and into the hallway skipped Nagisa, closely followed by a stern looking Rei.

"Her theory holds value," Rei acknowledged begrudgingly, "But, a mere mind does not a metaphysician make."

"Well, that's good," giggled the golden-haired young man, "Since you hold the position of the latter, though you sometimes seem to lack the former."

"Nagisa, Rei," said the princess hurriedly, cutting of any ensuing argument, "You must tell me how I can find this duke."

"What?" exclaimed Rei. "What on earth for?"

"Someone must try and reason with him."

"The maid is mad," Rei muttered.

"Christine-chan, no one dares seek out the duke," explained Nagisa. "The combination of a gift for magic and a bad temper makes his company less than desirable."

"No one can reason with him," concluded Rei.

"Someone must try," insisted Christine.

Makoto, meanwhile, had been observing the maid-disguised-princess with quiet contemplation. "Why are you so insistent on helping His Highness?" he asked her.

"He is our prince," she stated matter-of-factly. "And we his servants. Is it not our duty to do whatsoever we can, for his sake?"

"And for the reward?" inquired Makoto.

"Bollocks to the reward!" cried the princess, in an uncharacteristic fit of passion. "What wisdom is there in wealth without water? The prince wastes away with woe—and the people thirst from famine," she added quickly, so as to not make her affection for the prince so obvious.

The guard considered her for a moment longer. "I shall take you to the duke," he told her at last.

"What? Mako-chan!" cried Nagisa, aghast. "You can't!"

"And let the maiden go alone?" replied Makoto, turning to the shorter boy. "If nothing else, then I must ensure her safety. But I, too, wish to help the prince."

"It isn't her safety alone that you should be worried about," Rei cut in dryly. "The duke could very well curse the both of you."

"Then come with us," the princess pleaded. "Both of you."

"I fail to see the logical transition between my warning and your request, lady," said Rei flatly. "We are not as keen on being bewitched as you apparently are."

"But surely your wisdom could aid us," pointed out the princess. "You must know some way to counteract his charms, if need be…don't you?"

Rei's pride having been baited, he abruptly erupted into pompous laughter. "Ah-ha! The maiden must be aware of the score of arcane volumes within our college library! Of course, the only one who could make any sense of them is a highly learned scholar such as myself—"

"And every other member of the college of metaphysicians," added Nagisa wryly.

"To which I humbly accept the assignment of saving our sovereign heir," finished Rei, ignoring the other boy.

"Your books will tell you how to deter the duke's dark arts?" questioned Makoto.

"I recall a section in the library regarding that subject," said Nagisa. "I suppose we could peruse it and discover something."

The princess, overcome with gratitude, hugged both the metaphysicians; to which one responded jubilantly and the other uncomfortably. I shall let the reader decide who did which.

"Thank you," she said upon releasing them from her embrace. "Then, at the soonest opportunity, let us seek out this Duke Rin."

.

.

* * *

**A/N: This is going to be a three-part story, so the next installment will be the final one. Thank you all for reading so far!**


	3. Part III

**A/N: This will be the _second _to last installment of the story, not the last. I know in the previous update I said that it would be a three-part story, but I miscalculated. Oops.**

_..._

_Part III_

_..._

Some days later, the four friends found themselves standing outside the castle of Duke Rin. They were scrutinizing a set of four silver bracelets.

"Are you quite sure this will work?" asked Makoto with some doubt.

"Of course I am sure!" huffed Rei.

The dark-haired metaphysician had spent the last three nights employing the art of alchemy, and, he insisted, quite thoroughly too. The result of this experimentation was a metal which, according to him, could deflect any means of magic when worn.

The princess slipped one on. "Have a little faith, Makoto," she told the guard. "I am sure Rei's work is perfectly commendable. And besides that," here she paused to admire the bracelet, "It is also quite beautif—"

"Don't say the b-word, Christine-chan," Nagisa cut her off abruptly, as he slid a bracelet onto his own wrist, "Lest his ego explodes."

Rei was affronted. "And what did _you_ contribute?" he snapped. "Besides pouring sugar on all of us?"

Nagisa looked abashed. "Forgive me, I mistook it to be salt. It is said that a pinch thrown over the shoulder can keep danger away; thus I deduced that a bucket per person should enhance our protection."

Makoto was still skeptical. "Is there nothing else we can do to ensure our safety?"

"No," said Rei flatly, "Besides pray."

"Alright," said the princess.

The men shot her a look of disbelief; all except for Nagisa, who found the suggestion perfectly agreeable. "Excellent proposal, Rei-chan!" he said cheerfully, and, reaching out, grasped the hands of the two men on either side of him in preparation for prayer.

The princess clasped her hands together and bent her head. "Father, protect us and put your armor over us. In the name of your Son, so be it."

"Amen!" exclaimed Nagisa enthusiastically.

"Are we done?" said Rei dryly.

"Why are you gentlemen holding hands?" asked the princess, looking back up.

Makoto glanced down confusedly at their clasped hands. "I'm not sure," admitted he.

Rei sputtered in embarrassment and tore his hand from his colleague's. "Because Nagisa's a fool," he snapped. "Now can we _please_, do what we came here to do?"

"Gladly," said the princess, and, squaring her shoulders, she turned to the tall doors of the castle and knocked.

A few moments passed. Then the door creaked open, and the face of a young woman with dark red hair poked out from behind it.

"Yes?" asked the girl, casting the four of them a wary gaze.

"Greetings!" boomed Rei before the other three could say a word. "We seek court with your master, the duke."

"He's not my master, he's my brother," she replied flatly.

"Oh!" cried Nagisa. "You must be Gou, the duke's sister!"

The red-haired maiden shot the blonde a lethal look. "It's Kou," she corrected. "_Lady_ Kou to you."

Now the lady Kou was of a much gentler disposition than her brother the duke (except in matters regarding her name). In truth, she worried for her sibling, sinister though he may be. She had seen resentment and revenge eat away at him over the years, turning Rin evermore reclusive with time. There had once been guards stationed at the door, like in any respectable noble's home. But, following her father's death, half of them had been turned into frogs during one of her brother's rages, and the other half had fled before the same could happen to them. It was really quite inconvenient, having such a temperamental brother (and Kou did feel most sorry for the frogs that now hopped about in their pond), but she had to admit that there was hardly any need for guards in the first place, seeing as how the duke was greatly feared throughout the kingdom. And in any case, no one ever came to visit anymore, anyway. Which was why she found the arrival of these four most odd.

"Who are you," she asked, "And what do you want with my brother?"

It was the princess' soft voice that answered her, "We are servants from the king's palace," and then, after giving each of their names, she added, "We come on behalf of our prince."

"Haruka?" said Kou, and then she looked pained. For she knew of her brother's hatred towards their cousin, and she also suspected, though she did not know for sure, that her brother was the cause of their cousin's curse. "What of him?"

"Your cousin's health is failing," explained the princess. "We thought the duke may be able to…help."

Lady Kou shook her head sadly. "You thought wrong. My brother tends to use magic to harm, rather than to help. I am sorry. Please send our cousin our condolences." She began to close the door.

"Wait!" cried Christine, throwing a hand out to hold the door open. "Let us speak with the duke," the princess pleaded. "Please. Let us try to reason with him."

The lady thought the maid must be mad. "Aren't you afraid of my brother?"

"Yes," said the princess truthfully, for she did indeed feel a little afraid. But her love for the prince far outweighed any fear that she felt. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," said the other girl after a pause.

"Then why are you here?" asked the princess.

Though the duke's sister was younger than both the duke and the prince, she surely was wiser than the two of them combined, for she observed the look of love in the princess' eyes and said, "I think you know, miss."

The princess smiled and nodded. "Love overcomes fear," said she. "That is why I—I mean, _we_, are here as well."

Lady Kou considered the four of them for just a moment longer, before stepping back and swinging the door open.

"Alright," she conceded. "I will take you to him."

"Thank you, my lady," said the princess gratefully, dipping into a quick curtsy. Makoto uttered the same and followed suit with a bow.

"Yes, we are greatly indebted to you, Lady Gou!" agreed Nagisa.

"Kou," corrected the duke's sister.

"Many thanks, Kou," added Rei.

"_Lady_ Kou," said she with grit teeth. "Oh, never mind. Just follow me." She turned on her heel, and the four followed her down a great hall.

They passed a great many doors and corridors to reach the duke's study; where, Kou explained, he now spent the majority of his time brooding away, devising dark spells, and concocting complex plans of revenge. As they walked she told them more about her brother; about his likes and dislikes (swimming and soft pillows for the former, sweets and storybooks for the latter), about his devastation at the death of their father, about his resentment of their cousin's carefree life. She silently prayed that this strange maiden and her friends could soften her brother's heart, and help to lift him out of his darkness.

When they reached the door to the study, Kou turned to them. "It is unlocked," she informed them. "I will be nearby if you need me."

"Thank you again, Lady Kou," said Christine.

"It's _Ko_—" the duke's sister began with irritation, then stopped. "Er—oh. Yes, you are welcome." She softened a bit then. "You can just call me Kou."  
The princess gave her a kind smile, then turned to her companions. "Are we ready?"

They nodded.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked three times upon the door, then opened it and stepped inside.

The study was large and dimly lit by a few candles. The four of them squinted, allowing their eyes to adjust.

"Hello?" called the princess into the darkness. "Your Grace?"

"It feels haunted in here," whispered Nagisa.

Makoto gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. "Don't _say_ things like that," he gritted out with uncharacteristic vehemence.

"I'm not too fond of the dark myself," admitted the princess.

Rei scoffed. "Fear of superstitions and the dark is completely illogical."

"True," said a voice from behind them, "Though if you have a fear of either, then you have come to the wrong place."

All four of them yelped loudly (and one of them shrieked, but to preserve his dignity I will not say who), and whirled around.

Before them stood the duke, wearing a dark scowl. "Who are you," he demanded, "And why are you in here, unannounced?"

Nagisa poked his head out from behind the princess, whom he had been using as a shield. "Rin-chan?" he asked curiously. With a sudden laugh of recognition, he gleefully skipped forward. "Thank goodness, I thought it was a ghost!" he said jovially, coming to a halt before the duke. "We haven't seen you since the christening, when we were all children…but you still cause as much of a fright as ever, Your Grace!"

Duke Rin raised an eyebrow at him, before a shadow of recognition crossed his eyes, and his expression hardened.

"Nagisa," he began, "It is a great displeasure to see you all again…a fact which is not helped by Makoto currently pointing a sword at me."

"You remember us!" Nagisa exclaimed happily, quite ignoring the insult.

"Unfortunately," muttered the duke, continuing to give them all a dangerous glare.

The princess, having finally recovered from her initial fright, laid a hand on Makoto's arm and gently urged him to put the weapon away.

The young guard looked down at his hands and seemed surprised to see a sword there. "Ah," he said embarrassedly, "Right. Sorry." Hastily he sheathed the weapon.

The duke observed this exchange with some contempt. "That seems an unwise decision, young maiden," he said. "Are you not aware of what I am capable of?"

"I am, Your Grace," said the princess respectfully. "Which is why I thought the sword unnecessary, as it would have had little effect."

"You are clever," said the duke. "And who might you be?"

"A mere maid from the king's palace."

"A mere maid," echoed the duke, "With two foolish metaphysicians, and one useless guard. Perhaps you are not so clever. You do realize that I could easily curse the lot of you, don't you?"

In truth, he was not planning on cursing any of them. The duke may have been devious, and sometimes devilish, but he was not outright evil. No, he only ever cursed someone when he was in a sufficient enough rage, and at the moment he was only moderately irritated. Besides, there was a woman present. Most of the time, if he could help it, he avoided cursing in front of women. He was a noble, after all.

"Your Grace," began the princess carefully, "We are aware of your talent for magic, but—"

"But it's alright!" interrupted Nagisa cheerily. "Because Rei-chan used alchemy to create a metal which makes void the effects of magic!" He raised his wrist, showing off the silver band.

The princess paused to ponder, for a moment, why it was that men constantly felt the need to senselessly provoke each other.

The duke, meanwhile, was beginning to reevaluate his level of irritation, and he looked torn between offense and amusement. "Alchemy?" he laughed. "You really think that such amateurish antics as alchemy are an attack against me?"

Rei was outraged. "Ignorance!" he sputtered hotly. "Arrogance! No matter how great your magic, there is always a way in which science can subdue it!"

The duke's eyes narrowed. "Shall we test that claim?" he said, raising a hand. Makoto, noticing this, began to draw his sword once more.

"Stop, please!" cried the princess, hastily putting herself between them. "We are not here to debate, or to duel." She briefly wondered why it was that men so often liked to do one or the other.

"No?" said Duke Rin. "Well, then, if this is neither a social call, nor a challenge, then why are you here? And who let you in, anyway?"

"Your sister," replied the princess.

"Kou?" said the duke, looking surprised and then annoyed, before muttering something under his breath about how the girl could be awfully meddlesome.

"She worries about your wellbeing," said the princess in reply, "Just as we worry about the wellbeing of our prince."

"Ah," said the duke slowly, and the princess could perceive a dangerous glint in his eye. "So that is why you are here."

"Yes," said the princess. "We want to know…if it was you, who bewitched the prince, and cursed the lake and all the land to go dry."

"Do you now?" said the duke. "And if I say that it wasn't me?"

"Then I would ask you to use your gift of magic to aid your cousin, the prince, whose life is draining away just as the waters of the lake are."

"I see," he said coolly. "And…if I say that it was I who enacted the curse in the first place?"

"My response would remain the same."

"And why, young miss, would I possibly want to revoke the curse, if it was my desire to enact it in the first place?"

"Because all human beings have a great capacity for change," said the princess. "It matters not what you did in the past…even if you _were_ the one who bewitched him. If you recanted now and helped him, all would be forgiven."

The duke laughed. "_All _would be forgiven? By the prince, by his parents the king and queen, _and_ by all their subjects? You are naïve, miss. It is not so easy to forgive. This I know from experience."

The princess, suddenly remembering something her father had once told her, quoted, "To him who can forgive much, much will be forgiven."

What she did not detail verbally, but was very expressly meant by her words, was the suggestion that the duke ought to first forgive his own cousin and family for whatever imagined slights he had perceived against himself; and, in this manner, subsequently receive their own forgiveness. Perhaps the duke deduced as much behind her words, because his eyes hardened.

"Who says I want to be forgiven?" he replied.

The princess looked at him for a moment, and considered the fact that this man was the cause of her beloved prince's imminent death. She then remembered something else her father had told her once, on how to be a good ruler. _Care for your people the same way you care for your loved ones_, he had told her. _Care for them even when they come against you, even when they try to be your enemy. It is easier said than done, but it is the key to achieving peace._

"Your sister told me that you like to swim," she said suddenly.

All the men in the room gave her a strange look then, as though she had suffered momentary memory loss and forgotten what the conversation was supposed to be about.

"But that you swim alone," she continued, ignoring their looks. "Would you not like to be able to swim with others?"

Rin looked at her like she was mad. "Why should I?"

"Your cousin, the prince, also loves to swim," she went on. "I knew how to swim already, but didn't discover such joy in it until I swam together with him. There is something to be said about the joys of swimming together rather than swimming alone." She paused, then suggested tentatively, "Perhaps you should come join us. You and your sister." She gestured at everyone. "All of us."

Rin opened his mouth to reject the idea, but Makoto beat him to it. Rather awkwardly, the young guard confessed a fear of being underwater, due to an incident from his childhood.

The duke glanced at him when he was done. "Yes, I remember that," he commented. "It was the summer I came to visit my uncle, before Haruka was born. I said I would teach you to swim, but then when no one was watching, you fell in on your own, and that was the end of that." He stopped then, and, realizing that he had said more than two sentences that were nonthreatening, glared at the other boy. "Rather foolish of you, I'd say."

The young guard chuckled weakly. "Yes, I was, wasn't I?"

"There's always the backstroke," pointed out the princess. "Do you think you might like to learn, still?"

"I suppose I could try," said the guard hesitantly (and in truth he was not sure how willing he was, but he was starting to discern the princess' strategy), "But I would have to be taught."

"I'm rather fond of swimming myself," piped Nagisa, "But Rei-chan here doesn't know how to swim eith—"

"Ahem!" coughed the other metaphysician loudly. "I do think we are steering drastically off topic from—"

"But it's true!" insisted Nagisa. "You sink like a stone every single time, even though I've tried every—"

"My talents lie in science, not swimming!" screamed Rei frantically, and he was now beet red, whether from embarrassment or outrage I cannot say.

Nagisa sighed and said, with a shrug, "Perhaps I am just not a very good teacher."

The princess turned to Rin, who was attempting—with much difficulty—to hide an amused smirk. She smiled at him. "Now there's two of them who need to learn. Will you help teach them?"

His expression quickly darkened. "Why don't you ask the precious prince Haruka instead?" he asked acidly.

Christine sobered. "Because he is dying," she said. "Unless you help him."

"Why should I?"

She looked at him, and saw deep bitterness in his eyes. Suddenly, all the anger that she felt towards him was overwhelmed by great pity.

"I will tell you why," she said, "Once you tell me this: Why are you so jealous of him?"

The duke looked scornful. "I am not jeal—"

"Why?" insisted the princess. "Is it because he still has his father? Or is it because of how well he swims? Or, perhaps, it is because the very enchantment meant to be a curse to him actually enables him to be free of feeling any pain or heartache…unlike you?"

The duke's demeanor had darkened deeper and deeper with every word which the princess spoke. In fact, he was starting to wonder if this might be the first time he had felt tempted to hex a woman. Fortunately for the princess, the initial impression she had made upon the duke—that of being the most sensible and amiable one of the four—made him refrain from cursing her, for the moment at least.

"You are very keen," he gritted out at last. "It reminds me of my sister. I find it highly irritating."

The princess chose to focus on the positive aspect of that statement. "Thank you," she said brightly. "I am touched."

He glared at her. "That was not my intention."

Understandable was the duke's frustration with the maiden, for she had touched upon every point that was a tender spot to his heart, and thus a bruise to his pride. Perhaps the only thing she had forgotten to mention, was what a blow it was that the prince should be able to enjoy the comforts of having both swimming and his whole family still, while the duke could only have the comfort of one. His hatred for his cousin only increased upon learning that the boy only held appreciation for the former, and not so much for the latter—never mind that it was likely the duke's own fault in the first place that the prince had such an imbalance in doling out affection properly. As it stood, Rin only saw that he himself would give anything to have his father back, and if not that, then at the very least to have the leisure of swimming drown out his pain so thoroughly as to numb him to all feeling. He was given neither of these consolations, however, while his cousin, who was in no need of consolation at all, was given both.

The detailed self-analysis that this epiphany gave rise to in Rin's soul was too much for him; he determined that he should curse the one who was the cause of it after all, woman or not. This he was about to do, with the lifting of a hand, when the princess interrupted him by offering her own hand to him.

"Forgive me," she said.

The duke paused in the uplifting of his hand, which he had been about to curse her with, then lowered it to grasp her fingers under the pretense of a handshake (for he secretly planned on expending less energy by cursing her while in physical contact). "Forgive you for what?" he asked with deceptive calmness. "Insulting me by attempting to bring up painful topics?"

"Well, yes, for that also," said the princess, taking both of his hands into hers in an unexpected show of kindness. Then, with an apologetic look, she added, "But mostly for this." She clapped a pair of chained cuffs around his wrists.

Immediately, Makoto had his sword drawn and held to the duke's throat. The princess gently let go of his hands and stepped back, while the duke regarded the metal on his wrists with disdain and outrage. They were made of the same silver material as the bracelets worn by the four.

"You must understand," began the princess, "That we do this only as a means of protecting ourselves, and as a last resort; seeing as you were on the verge of refusing our entreaties and becoming violent. But we have no intentions to harm you in any way."

The duke gave them all a cold glare of fury, which turned to amusement as he raised his metal-bound wrists. "And what makes you think you _could_ harm me, even if you intended to?" laughed he with scorn, as he lifted a finger to invoke a spell. "As I said before, your weapons and your little—_toys_," here he glanced contemptuously at Rei, "have no effect against magic."

With a flick of his wrist and the point of his finger, he enacted a powerful, terrible, dreadful curse—and was then astonished to see nothing happen. Utterly perplexed, he attempted the spell again and again, only to be met with the same result.

"This is impossible," he uttered, in a voice that betrayed equal parts shock, rage, and horror. "There is no way!"

"Admit defeat!" shouted Rei with triumph. "My science has trumped your magic; my knowledge your arrogance!"

"Impossible!" roared Rin. "There is no way that this—this paltry…_jewelry, _could possibly deflect my dark arts!" He started up in a rage but was met straightaway by the point of Makoto's sword. At this he looked very angry, and yelled for the guards.

His shout was met only by the entrance of Lady Kou. "Hello brother," she greeted him calmly.

"Kou!" he roared. "Send for the guards!"

"We no longer have any guards," she reminded him dryly. "You turned them into frogs, or have you forgotten?"

The duke gave his sister an outraged look. "How can you be so calm?" he seethed. "Do you not see me in chains and with a sword at my throat?"

Kou looked slightly guilty, but informed him that she was quite aware of the situation, as she had been listening at the door this entire time. "And," she added, glancing over at the princess, "I'd very much like to go swimming at the palace, together with both you, brother, and our cousin."

"What?" Rin sputtered angrily. "Are you mad? What has that to do with anything?"

"I am saying," said his sister sternly, "That I wish for you to save our cousin the prince."

Rin went silent then, for he could see that, without the use of his magic, he was in no position to evade this issue any longer. And although he _was_ still quite angry, there _was_ still a sword pointed at his neck, which he now had no means to deflect.

So he sullenly said, "I cannot save him." Then, in response to a score of protests, he added, "Not because I do not want to—which, mind you, is still the case—but because I do not have the capacity to."

"What!" cried Nagisa. "Do you mean to say that there is no way to break the curse over the lake?"

"There is a way," revealed Rin, "But you won't like it very much."

"I shall, if it shall save the prince," answered the princess. "Pray tell what it is."

"Someone will have to die in his place."

"What!" exclaimed everyone.

"Do not toy with us," said Makoto, pressing the point of his sword closer against the duke's neck, "By trying to spread your misery onto others even more. What is the _real_ method of breaking the curse?"

"That _is_ the real method!" cried the duke, frantically backing away from the tip of the sword. "See for yourself! Page 156 of the volume on my desk."

Nagisa hurried over to the table, flipped to the designated page, and read aloud:

"Death alone from death can save.

Death for love makes true love brave—

Love can fill the deepest grave.

Love loves on beneath the wave."

"What in the blazes is that supposed to mean?" wondered Rei.

"Read on, fool," commanded Rin.

Nagisa, quick to forgive this slight, continued to read, "If the lake should disappear, then the hole through which the water leaked out can easily be found. Where the difficulty lies is how to plug up the hole. There is but one effective way. The body of a living person can alone stop the flow. This person must give themselves up out of their own free will; and the lake must take this person's life as it fills up once more. Otherwise, the offering will be of no avail. And if the kingdom cannot provide one hero, then it is high time it should perish anyway."

Everyone (excluding the duke) gaped upon hearing this information. It was very disheartening to discover that the devious duke was not being dishonest. A debate then broke out on what to do next; Lady Kou was intent on scolding her brother for enacting such a terrible curse, Makoto was intent on skewering the duke with his sword for harming his best friend the prince, and the two metaphysicians were intent on performing experiments on Rin as punishment for not believing that their work was capable of defeating him. The princess alone said nothing for a good long while.

At last, she interrupted them all by saying simply and softly, "Let us return to the palace." She gazed at the duke then with an unreadable expression. "And," she added, "Bring him."

* * *

**A/N: A few announcements...**

**First of all, even though there are few followers to this story thus far, I apologize for the long time it took to update. **

**Secondly, Part IV should be up soon! It's been started already; hence how I realized that it was long enough to be its own separate chapter. **

**And third, I will soon be taking down 'Living Water,' ****the story that this AU was based on. Some of you may already know that that first started as an idea for an original novella, which, after watching Free!, compelled me into writing a fanfic version for it too. Now that I am ready to attempt getting it published, I need to take down the fanfic version, lest I incur the wrath of potential publishers. But! I will be leaving up the bonus chapter, since that has been left out of the original story.**

**That's all! Thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this story so far!**


	4. Part IV

**A/N: Here is the final chapter! Sorry for the wait. I suggest re-reading or skimming over the SECOND chapter to reorient yourselves with the story. (Yes, the second, that's not a typo.) Enjoy!**

* * *

_..._

_Part IV_

_..._

Their Majesties were greatly downcast upon reading page 156 of the duke's spell book. Even if the king and queen had been so heartless as to be willing to sacrifice a subject, there was little hope of finding a man who was willing to sacrifice himself. The foursome had just returned to the palace with the duke in tow—Lady Kou, for her part, had stayed behind in order to help hide her brother's disappearance from their mother—but no time was to be lost; for the prince was lying motionless on his bed, and taking no nourishment but lake water, which was now dwindling down to nothing.

Therefore the king said at once, "Makoto, have the contents of this page published throughout the kingdom, straightaway."

Makoto was about to obey, but was stopped by a snort from the duke, who stood chained before the king and queen.

"That will have little effect," said he. "I'll wager there's not a man in the whole kingdom who will come forward."

Rei, who was also present at this meeting along with his colleague, retorted, "You wretch! Their Majesties shall have you put in a sack, and stuck in the lake hole."

"Very well," replied the duke nastily, "But what good will that do their Majesties? Please to remember that the oracle says the victim must offer himself."

The queen, though much concerned about the fate of her child, said to her husband, "I am afraid he is right, my dear. What man is there who would be willing to lay down his own life for our son?"

The king was unable to answer, greatly grieved at the truth behind his wife's statement. The guard and the two metaphysicians glanced at guiltily each other; Makoto mourned that he should be inflicted with such a paralyzing fear of drowning (for otherwise he was quite ready to give up his life for his friend), and Nagisa and Rei each mourned that the other was too much of a coward to die for the prince.

This moment of grim silence was interrupted by the princess' soft voice. "There may not be a man who is willing," said she, "But I am."

All eyes turned to her in surprise, for she had been silent up until then.

"And who are you, my dear?" inquired the king.

"Your maid, sire."

"Ah," said he. "Are you sure?"

"That I am your maid? Yes, sire, though I am new—"

"No, my dear, are you sure about…" Here the king gestured vaguely in the direction of the lake.

"Ah. Yes, sire, quite sure."

There was an uncomfortable pause as everyone gazed upon the princess with disbelief.

At last, the queen graciously said, "We are greatly obliged to you, young lady." Then, unsure of how to proceed, she offered awkwardly, "…Have a glass of wine?"

"No, thank you," replied the princess.

"Then, would you like to run and see your parents before you…proceed?"

"No, thank you," said the princess.

The king and queen exchanged glances. Although decorum called for a longer period of time spent in comfort and consolation of the young lady, they both agreed that time did not allow them such a luxury, as their son's life steadily drained away.

"Very well then," said his Majesty, "We will go and look for the hole at once. Makoto—"

"A moment, please your Majesty; I have a condition to make," interrupted the princess.

The queen quickly said, "Of course, dear, do make your condition."

"My condition is this: that His Highness' cousin, the duke, not be punished."

"What!" cried Makoto, Nagisa and Rei. The duke, too, looked stunned, as did their Majesties.

"But, my dear woman," began Rei, "All the things he has done!"

"Yes," agreed Nagisa, "Let us not forget that he was the one who bewitched the prince at birth—"

"—And now curses him with death," added Makoto.

Indeed, the duke's actions were a capital crime, tantamount to treason, and even worthy of execution. The princess knew this (being herself the daughter of a king), and thus she implored, "Is not my death enough? If I die today, it is my dearest wish that none other shall die along with me." She then explained, as concisely as she could and without wounding the duke's dignity, that Rin at his core was just a child without a father, lonely and confused, and blinded by heartache after his death. She concluded with this: "Your Majesties, I ask that you forgive him…for he knew not what he was doing."

The king mulled this over for a long moment. It was the queen who, glancing over at her nephew the duke (who now stared at the floor, unable to meet anyone's eye), finally softened; and, placing a hand over her husband's, spoke thusly: "Very well. We will grant such a gracious request. Is there no other request you would like to make—for yourself, perhaps?"

The princess considered this. "Only this," she said at last, "that—as I won't be dead until I am fairly drowned, and the waiting will be rather tiresome—the prince would be there to keep me company, to talk with me and pass the time. Once the water is up to my eyes, he may go."

"But, Christine-chan!" burst out Nagisa, unable to contain himself any longer. "Why must you die? And in such an excruciating manner, too! How could you bear it?"

The princess tried her best not to think about just how excruciating it would be. "I confess that it _is_ rather hard," she said, keeping her expression blank.

"You _do_ realize that you will be drowned slowly, and by inches, don't you?" persisted the blond metaphysician, quite concerned for his new friend.

"Yes, thank you, Nagisa."

"That would be approximately, what, sixty whole inches of you to drown then!" he continued, rather frantic now.

"Sixty-two—"

"And if each inch should take a quarter of an hour to fill up the lake," Nagisa went on, with increasing panic and ever decreasing tact, "Why then, it would take over half a day just to drown, half a day of anticipating the feeling of a knife slicing through your lungs, _half a day _of waiting for death; and that that is _too_ much for you to have to bear, Christine-chan, even if you _do_ die looking into the prince's eyes—!"

At this the princess could appear aloof no longer, and looked rather pained; and Rei nudged Nagisa sharply in the ribs to silence him. Their Majesties looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

"Well then," said the princess, addressing the king and queen, "Do you grant my request?"

"Of course we do," replied the king.

"Very well. I am ready."

.

* * *

.

So the king ordered out his guards, with Makoto at the head of them, and gave directions to the officers to find the hole in the lake at once.

Meanwhile, the princess pulled aside the duke to have a private conversation with him. He had, by this time, resigned himself to a state of cooperation, for he felt rather guilty that this maiden should die on account of him. But he was resolved not to show it.

"I am indebted to you," he stated matter-of-factly, "And this gives me great displeasure. Will you not change your mind?"

"No," said the princess. "But there is something you could do for me."

"I could bewitch someone else to take your place—"

"No," said the princess again.

The duke sighed. "Very well. What is it you want?"

"Once I am gone," she began, "Will you come visit the palace often—so that the prince may still have someone to swim with?"

"The king and queen would never allow—"

"I've spoken with the king and queen, and you are to be welcomed in the palace like the family member that you are, as often as you please."

The duke was still reluctant, but at length he condescended to fulfill her request, and even went so far as to promise not to attempt cursing the prince again.

"How do you know I won't go back on my word?" he asked her, just before she departed for her death.

"I have faith," she said simply, as she turned to go.

Curious, he called after her, "What did Prince Haruka ever do to deserve such a sacrifice as yours?"

"It is not about what we deserve," said the princess over her shoulder, and at this Duke Rin remembered that he himself was not so deserving of the reprieve he had been granted, and so he said no more.

Now, when the prince heard that someone had offered to die for him, he was so transported that he jumped off of his bed for joy. He did not care who that someone was; that was nothing to him. The hole needed stopping up; and if only a single person would do, why, take one then.

In an hour or two more everything was ready; the hole had been discovered. It was a triangular hole of no great size, in the middle of a stone near the center of the lake. What little water was left in the lake was slowly draining through the hole.

The prince was escorted to the side of the lake and borne across to the stone, where they had placed a little boat for him. The water was not deep enough to make the boat float, but they hoped it would be before long. They laid the prince on cushions, placed wines and fruits and other nice things in the boat, and stretched a canopy over it all.

In a few minutes more the princess appeared. The prince recognized her at once, but did not think it worthwhile to acknowledge her.

"Here I am," said the princess. "Put me in."

"They told me it was a maid," said the prince.

"So I am," said the princess. "I polished your floors three times a day, because they were all I could get of you. Put me in."

The courtiers did not resent her bluntness, except by thinking to themselves that she was taking it out in impudence.

But how was she to be put in? The book had contained no instructions on this point. The princess looked at the hole, and saw but one way. She sat down on the stone, swung her legs into the hole, and, stooping forward, covered the corner that remained open with her two hands. In this uncomfortable position she resolved to abide her fate, and turning to the attendants, said, "You may go now."

"Yes, you may go now," echoed the prince dismissively.

They obeyed and went.

A long period of silence passed, with neither the prince nor princess saying a word. Presently a little wave flowed over the stone, and wetted one of the princess' knees. But she did not mind it much. She began to sing, and the song she sang was this:

"Man with hair as dark as night,  
Let the waters give you sight.  
See how I go out of love,  
For thy sake, to realms above,  
Where the light shines on and on,

And living water flows like song.  
Let, I pray, one thought of me  
Spring water such as this in thee;  
Lest thy loveless soul be found  
Like a dry and thirsty ground."

"Sing again, princess," said the prince, sounding quite bored. "It makes it less tedious,"

But the princess was much too overcome by emotion to sing any more, and a long pause followed.

"This is very kind of you, princess," said the prince at last, quite coolly, as he lay in the boat with his eyes shut.

"I am sorry I can't return the compliment," said the princess, with more sadness than impertinence. The prince didn't seem to notice either way.

"Why are you doing this, anyhow?" he inquired casually, eyes still closed.

There was another pause. "I suppose it's because," she said finally, "That for whatever reason—I find you worth dying for."

The prince opened his eyes then to look at her, but said nothing.

Again a wavelet, and another, and another flowed over the stone, and wetted the princess' gown all the way up to her knees; but she did not speak or move. Two—three—four hours passed in this way; the prince apparently having dozed off, and the princess very patient.

But suddenly the prince started up, exclaiming, "The water is alive!" And the little boat, now in water high enough to float it, bumped against the stone.

"Dear prince," said the princess, her mental fortitude weakened by hunger and the impending prospect of death, and thus giving way to a sudden surge of sentimentality, "May I say something?"

"Yes, what is it?" said the prince, without looking round at her.

"Your father promised that you should keep me company and talk with me, but you have spoken very little, and hardly even looked my way."

"Did he? Then I suppose I must. But," he yawned, "I am so very tired."

"Sleep then, darling, and don't mind me," said the poor princess.

"Really, you are very good," replied the prince. "I think I shall sleep then."

"Would you do me the kindness of feeding me a glass of wine and a biscuit, first?" asked the princess, very humbly.

"With all my heart," said the prince, then gaped upon hearing such words fall from his own lips. But his surprise quickly faded into a vacant expression once more, and, getting the wine and the biscuit, he leaned over the side of the boat towards the princess. Thus he was compelled, in that moment, to take a good look at her.

"Princess," he said solemnly, "you don't look well. Are you sure you don't mind it?"

"Not a bit," answered she, feeling very faint indeed. "Only I shall die before it is of any use to you, unless I have something to eat."

"There, then," said he, holding out the wine to her.

"I dare not move my hands, Your Highness. The water would run away directly."

"Very well," said the prince; and he began to feed her with bits of biscuit and sips of wine.

When he was done, the princess thanked him. "But for your own sake, prince," said she, "I cannot let you go to sleep. You must sit and keep watch over me, else I fear I may fall over for want of sleep myself."

"Well, I will do anything I can to oblige you," answered he, with condescension; and, sitting down, he watched her, and kept watching her with impressive steadfastness, all things considered.

The sun went down, and the moon rose, and, gush after gush, the waters were rising up over the princess' body. They were up to her waist now.

"Why don't we go and have a swim?" said the prince. "There seems to be water enough now."

"I shall never swim more," said the princess grimly.

"Oh, I forgot," said the prince, and was silent.

So the water grew and grew, and rose up and up on the princess. And the prince sat and watched her. He fed her every now and then. The night wore on. The waters rose and rose. The moon rose likewise higher and higher, and shone full on the face of the dying princess. The water was now up to her neck.

"Haru," said she, feebly. "Will you embrace me farewell?"

The prince considered her for a moment. "Yes, Christine," he answered at last, "I will." And, leaning down, he wrapped her in his arms.

"Thank you," she said when he drew back, and smiled weakly but tenderly at him. "Now, I suppose, I shall die happy."

She did not speak again for the rest of the time there. The prince gave her some wine for the last time: she was past eating. Then he sat down again, and watched her. The water rose and rose. It touched the bottom of her chin. It covered her chin. It reached her lips, and she shut them hard to keep it out.

The prince began to feel strange.

The water now covered the princess' mouth completely. She began to breathe through her nose. The water rose steadily higher, to right below her nostrils.

The prince looked uneasy.

The princess inhaled a final breath of air. The water covered her nose.

The prince's eyes looked troubled, and shone strange in the moonlight.

A full minute passed as the water rose up to the princess' eyes. Her head fell back. The water slowly closed over her face and, finally, the bubbles of her last breath bubbled up through the water.

The prince gave a sudden shout, and sprang into the lake.

He grabbed first onto one of her arms, and then the other, and pulled, but to no avail. He stopped to take breath; this made him think of how _she_ could not get any breath, and he became frantic. Getting a hold of her, he held her head above the water, which was possible now that her hands were no longer on the hole. But it was of no use, for she was past breathing.

Love and water brought him a surge of strength. He got under the water, grasped the princess about her waist, and pulled and pulled with all his might, till at last he got her out of the hole, and into the boat. Seizing the oars, he rowed and rowed, though he had never rowed before and, I must say, was not very good at it, even if it _was_ a water activity. Cursing himself for being no use at paddling through the water unless it was with his own arms, the prince kept the boat steady as best he could. Round rocks, and over shallows, and through mud he rowed, till he got to the landing stairs of the palace. By this time his courtiers were on the shore, for they had heard his shout. Makoto, Nagisa, Rei, and even Rin were present; they followed him as he carried the princess to his own room, and lay her in his bed, and called for attendants to light a fire and send for the doctors.

"But the lake, your Highness!" cried Rei, confused.

"Go and drown yourself in it!" snapped the prince.

The other attendants left to fetch the doctors, but somehow, they never came. So the prince and the other four were left with the princess. Makoto did what he could to push water out of her lungs, the two metaphysicians offered up smelling salts and salves, and the duke, showing uncharacteristic concern, attempted a healing spell.

"That won't work, you fool!" cried Rei in exasperation. "You're still wearing the cuffs on your—" And then he gaped as a shimmer of magic spread from Rin's handcuffed hands and onto the princess. Her fading pulse returned slightly, but even then, she lay as still as a stone.

Rin gave the metaphysician a dark look. "I _told_ you," he said, indicating the metal on his wrists with equal exasperation, "That these can't stop it."

Rei looked aghast. "But then how—"

"Why is she still not breathing?" cried Nagisa, greatly distressed.

Makoto continued to pump down on the princess' chest, but perceiving this to have little effect, he turned to the prince and informed him, "I believe she needs air, Your Highness…do you want me to—ah, or did you want to, that is, erm—"

The prince did not reply. Putting a hand to the princess' cold cheek, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers, gently giving her air from his own lungs. Drawing back again, he gazed intently at her. "Wake up, princess," he implored quietly.

"…_Princess?_" exclaimed the other four in shocked revelation. The prince ignored them.

"Wait—if she is a princess—" began Nagisa.

"—Then what is she doing here?" finished Rei.

Rin looked equally intrigued. "And from which kingdom?"

Makoto paled, suddenly remembering something. "I heard that the king and queen had invited a princess from a neighboring kingdom…in hopes that she would become Prince Haruka's betrothed."

The four turned back to stare at the comatose princess.

"Well," said Rin at last, "It will be a distressingly short engagement, unless we do something quick."

"Unless _we _do something?" cried Nagisa. "_You're_ the one who has magic! Why can't you heal her?"

"More importantly," interjected Rei. "Why _does_ he have magic again?! It didn't work the last time, when he tried to use it against us."

There was a pause. "Last time," said Makoto, remembering, "The princess prayed for us."

Rei was incredulous. "That does nothing!"

"Much like your alchemy," said Rin sardonically.

As the four continued to argue, the prince continued to gaze at the princess. He silently considered what they were arguing about. Prince Haruka had never prayed before. But he had also never fallen in love before, and now, with the woman he loved dying before him, he thought that perhaps he should start.

So he prayed with all his heart and all his soul, and all his mind and all his strength. He prayed and prayed for whatever grace or mercy it would take to bring his beloved princess back to him. Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours; he did not know, for time seemed to unravel in those moments. The other four had at last ceased arguing, becoming somber and silent. Perhaps they were praying too.

At last, when they had all but given it up, and just as the sun was rising…the princess opened her eyes.

.

* * *

.

In the moments when the princess first opened her eyes, the prince found that his own became clouded by sudden, unexpected tears of joy. So unfamiliar was the sensation, and such a shock to his system, that he all but collapsed to the floor; the exhaustion of a sleepless night finally catching up to him. There he remained for a good long while, and wept and wept with relief and happiness. All the pent-up crying of his life was spent now. And a rain came on outdoors, such as had never been seen in that country. The sun shone the whole time, however; and the raindrops, as blue as the sapphire hue of the prince's own eyes, shone likewise. The palace, then, was in the heart of a rainbow. It was a rain of rubies, and sapphires, and emeralds, and topazes. Torrents poured from the mountains like rivers of diamond, filling the lake back up to overflowing.

But the prince did not heed the lake. He knelt on the floor and wept.

The princess, still quite weak, turned her head to see who was crying, and was alarmed to see that it was her prince. "My sweet prince," said she, greatly concerned, "Why do you weep?"

"Out of joy, princess," replied the prince.

"Oh, good," said the princess with relief, and then reached out to put a tender hand against the prince's cheek. "Then we're all happy."

"That we are indeed," sobbed the prince.

Now this rain within doors was far more wonderful than the rain out of doors. For when it abated a little, and the prince proceeded to rise, he found, to his astonishment, that he could not. At length, after many efforts, he succeeded in getting upon his feet. But he tumbled down again directly. Seeing him fall, Makoto and Rin both gaped, and the two metaphysicians cried, "He's found his gravity!"

"Oh, that's it, is it?" said the prince, rubbing his shoulder and his knee. "I consider it very unpleasant. I feel as though a boulder is on top of me."

And there was rejoicing all throughout the country on that rainy, rainbow-filled day. All the people throughout the land forgot their past troubles, and danced and sang amazingly. And there was such jubilation as was never heard of before.

Of course the prince and princess were betrothed at once. The princess' courtiers, once reunited with her, revealed that this had been her father's intention all along.

"Well, aside from the part where you nearly drowned, Highness," said Sir Michael respectfully.

Rose, quite wroth with her mistress, scolded, "To think that you were about to go and do such a thing! And without telling a single one of us!" She turned to Sir Michael. "And you, Captain! If you knew we were headed for King Nanase's palace anyway, why did you allow us to stop and dilly dally?"

"His Majesty was quite clear in his instruction of trusting whatever commands the princess may make," he explained. "Perhaps it was his hope that they would have a chance meeting first."

The princess admitted that she did not think the prince would have fallen in love with her if it had been an arranged meeting. It had been hard enough even when they were already on friendly terms.

Rose conceded with a sigh, "I suppose all things do work out for good with you, Your Highness." And then she proceeded to gush in excitement over the princess' impending wedding.

But the prince had to learn to walk before they could be married with any propriety. This was not so easy a task at his time of life, for he could walk no more than a baby, and was always falling down and hurting himself.

"Is this the 'falling' that you always made so much of?" said he one day to the princess, after she had helped raise him up off the floor. "For my part, I was a great deal more comfortable without it."

"No, darling. This is falling," replied the princess, and she leaned in and kissed him sweetly.

"Ah," said he. "I don't mind that so much."

At last the prince had learned the art of falling, both literally and figuratively. I fear he complained about falling more than once after this, notwithstanding.

It was a long time before he got reconciled to walking. But the pain of learning was quite counterbalanced by two things, either of which would have been sufficient consolation. The first was, that the princess herself was his teacher; and the second, that he could tumble into the lake as often as he pleased. Still, he preferred to have the princess jump in with him; and the splash they made before was nothing to the splash they made now.

The lake never sank again. The prince and the princess swam in it often, along with Rin the duke, Nagisa the metaphysician, and even, eventually, their friends Makoto and Rei. Lady Kou alone declined to join in, saying that she had discovered a greater pleasure in admiring them from shore instead.

So the prince and princess lived happily ever after; and had crowns of gold, and clothes of cloth, and shoes of leather, and days full of joy—the last of which, if I were to write all about, I suppose the whole world could not contain the books that would be written.

...

_**~The End~**_

...


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